Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.

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Autumn, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:

Upcoming Hatchings:Copper LaanasuthCopper Zelsk

With two clutches hardening on the Hatching Sands the big question seemed to be: which will hatch first?

The answer came in short order with Copper Zelsk's clutch breaking shell moments before Copper Laanasuth's. With so many eggs surely the dual hatching offers hope to the numerous Candidates who fill Dalibor's ranks. Only time will show who will come away with a lifemate of their very own...

Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

An unpleasant sound erupted from her only to be followed by a pleasant feeling - or what most would consider pleasant if they were not the cyan in question. Riddled with confusion and a tinge of anger Ridesk’s mind whirled as she struggled to understand just why she was feeling this way and why she couldn’t stop it. Despite all the turns she’d put into it she’d never learned how to empathize with anyone outside of Hers and thus feelings oftentimes regarded as trivial things, both her own and Rider’s. As lust coursed through her lithe form the cyan took up pacing back and forth in their wherhole as if doing so would make the feeling lessen or pass. She felt so restless after a full five minutes of pacing, digits flexing to drag her claws across the stone in a display of her frustration. The walls seemed to suddenly be so stifling as if they were closing in on her and with a growl she took off, pushing the thick hide aside as she tore through the corridors until she burst outside into the crisp night air. Walls could not close in on her out here, the weyrbowl was huge compared to her wherhole and she felt her restlessness ebb if only for a moment. In its place came hunger, a purely primal hunger that was not meant to be sated by her mouth but with nothing to compare the feeling to she whipped around towards the pens of herdbeasts and found one to her liking. Downing the beast she tore into it but despite having no experience she knew not to burden herself with a heavy meal. Leaving most of it to be picked over by firelizards, pillies, and tunnelsnakes she snaked out of the pen towards the lake in order to rinse herself clean.

Pale gray-blue hide shimmered ever so slightly in the night as Timor and Belior shone down upon her; if not for her pacing she might appear nothing more than a shadow cast upon the snow rather than a living being to the casual observer. As she took up pacing once more, water dripping from her form, her mind reached out almost hesitantly to Hers, Ridesk no feel good, may need be seeing healer to get better.

If she expected a prompt response from the man the cyan wher would be disappointed - after eight full turns it was understandable that he hadn’t expected this at all. In fact if someone had told him that his wher would decide to run after all this time he would have laughed in their face; Ridesk didn’t run. All of her siblings had run when they were old enough or ready to run but not Ridesk. Turns slipped by without any signs she even cared about such things except from the role of an observer. So when her frustration, anger, hunger, and lust fell upon him from the cyan he was caught completely off guard. Fingers curled under the table top and dug into it as he sucked in a deep breath, face flushed by the unexpected rush of emotions. Being in the dining hall he suddenly felt vulnerable as well as awkward, keenly aware of what he’d rather be doing now than filling his belly with hot soup. A few more breaths saw him calming himself enough to answer his wher as he stalked from the dining hall down one of the corridors leading away from it; he’d rather avoid the snow outside if he could. You’re fine love. Just… do what feels right. He was of no mind to explain the vtols and whersports to his wher, she was intelligent enough she’d eventually piece it all together.

Right, he had told her to do what felt right. A low growl, so unlike the cyan, rumbled in her throat as she snaked this way and that through the snow. That felt good but not right. Anytime she stopped moving she felt that unfamiliar restlessness burning inside of her once more and eventually she gave in, Ridesk needs… something. Her words were not for males alone, nor only for whers. In her frustration she had broadcast her unspecific need to the entirety of the Weyr and beyond its walls as well. Perhaps it was for the best though, as she could feel through their bond that Hers needed something too. Giving in to the need to move she took off in a sprint through the weyrbowl, jumping and gliding over the wider parts of the water that cut it in half with her abnormally large wings. Lithe form twisted back on itself as she turned around going back the way she’d come until the gap in the weyr wall caught her eye. Out there she would not be hindered by the pens and stables, by the water, by the stone walls that jutted into the skies around her. Out there she could really stretch her legs and that felt about as right as any of this did.

Ridesk's announcement stirred the attention of a blue scrabbling about in the undergrowth, looking for food. His powerful jaws clamped down on a small creature that tried to bolt, filling his mouth with the sweet taste of its blood. But his belly turned with the want to hunt a different prey. Alisk lifted his head, inhaling deeply, scenting the female that declared her need so loudly. It was one of the human whers. He Chased and caught one recently. A pretty cyan who appreciated his offer to hunt shiny flying creatures for her. He worked his jaw. Resisting the urge to chew and swallow the morsel.

Instead, he ran towards the delicious scent. The female. He would Chase. Yes! Perhaps she would be impressed by his hunting skills. Lean hips and powerful shoulders rippled as he bolted through the trees, vivid hide bright in the shadows. He was scarred but a survivor. Not especially fierce or bulky, but he made up for it in a sort of cleverness. Or was it common sense? He knew when it was time to back down or give up. And he also knew when to throw caution away and pursue his desires.

Right now, though, all he knew was the feel of the ground beneath his claws and the smell permeating his senses.

'Ridesk needs. Alisk help.

The blue burst through the undergrowth and at last saw the wher that called out. A cyan with a glorious wingspan. Beautiful.

Taresk had been through a good few runs even if he was relatively young and his bonded wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about chasing after the opposite gender (or the same gender for that matter) as his Brown. The Brown wher briefly looked back towards his handler as the Brown headed the Cyan’s call, but Tarele wasn’t about to go to a random handler’s Quarters even if said handler was a former classmate. Tarele was more than a little surprised with the fact that Ridesk took this long to feel the urge to mate, but it wasn’t something that he could really question since he was neither a wher nor female.

Taresk wants to help, as long as it isn’t too violent towards other whers, said Taresk closed in on Ridesk’s location as he plowed through the snow. He couldn’t glide all that much, seeing as his wings were average at best for a wher even for his size so for all intents and purposes useless for even gliding let alone powered flight. Instead he followed as best he could along the ground keeping a respectful but competitive position even with a sole male chasing her right now in the form of a wild Blue.

With a final *crunch* of vertebrae, the burdenbeast stiffened, then went limp. The smell of blood filled his nostrils as Scarsk took a large bite from the juvenile male he had dragged away from the rest of the herd, ichor dripping from the gore wound he had taken in the shoulder... a minor injury, just another scar to add to the patchwork covering his massive frame. Suddenly, he paused mid-bite, lifting his head... he had just felt something. Faint, but with an undertone of need that penetrated his thick skull and made him pay attention, even in the throes of a fresh meal. It was man-words... another domesticated wher from the two-leg caves was entering his forest to Run. Snorting, the wild bronze placed one massive paw on the shoulder of the burdenbeast, bit into its neck, and heaved, ripping the entire head of the creature off with a sickening tearing sound. It had been a couple seasons since he had last Chased... it was likely high time for him to remind the whers of the area who this forest belonged to.

Loping off in the direction of the call, leaving a trail of blood from the severed burdenbeast head in his jaws, he sent out in reply, "I Chase. I come to win," his confidence completely unaffected by his last loss when he Chased a domestic wher. While he was not the fastest wher, his massive size let him simply run through obstacles smaller whers would have to go around, and soon he caught up to the pack, seeing that only a wild blue and a domestic brown were chasing so far... and his prey was a cyan with strangely large wings. This would be easy.

The mindvoice that slid its way into the Cyan’s brain practically oozed. It wouldn’t be a familiar one—this particular creature had not called Dalibor home for long. For so little time, in fact, that he did not even have a proper territory to call his own. Oh, he knew where the lines were, was keenly aware of the scents that claimed this or that place as belonging to this or that wher. There was hardly any room for an interloper. But that didn’t bother this wher so much. He didn’t need to own the land to make use of it. Not when he could just slide right through and take what no one knew to miss. So she slipped in between the cracks of the island, and waited, and listened, and took what was not his, and slithered away before they had noticed.

But here was something that would not go unnoticed. Ridesk was a beacon to the whole island, she could not have been more noticeable if she had been preceded by a fair of flits singing her praises, nor if the moons should both go full on a cloudless night and shine spotlights down on her. Still. The wild wher waited. He was canny, you did not get to live in the cracks of the world if you were not. He would not breach the walls of the Weyr. Not where the scent of a hundred whers that would wish nothing but death on him called home.

When Ridesk finally burst through the gap in the Weyr walls a shadow detached itself from the undergrowth in pursuit. It oozed along after her, for all the world as though it were not in a hurry. He took his time. He slipped under foliage rather than plowing through it. Squirmed easily around the obstacles that nature saw fit to put in his path.

In the occasional break between trees where moonlight could pierce down to the lowest layers his competitors—even his prize, should she be so bothered as to look—might finally catch a glimpse. He was an odd little black, fashioned along the same low-slung, long lines as Ridesk herself, having something of a tunnelsnake-like countenance. His forelegs were narrow and almost uncomfortably long, bending out sideways at the elbow as he scuttled, so that his front and back half were level. His backlegs were frog-like, bulging with muscle as the wild wher propelled himself through the forest. It was as though all the muscle of his body had gone only to his hindlegs, leaving the rest of his body as little more than a bendable, twisting noodle, terminating in a flat, wide head. And he was deep, matte black, unmarked by scar or pattern. He was either very young or very shrewd to have no battlescars to call his own, and with the way he flitted on the outskirts of the Run, far from the maiming claws of his fellow suitors, he was not like to bear any new ones at this rate.

Still unable to pinpoint exactly what she needed she felt a tinge of relief upon hearing the males respond to her call, as if they might hold the key. Unfamiliar voices flooded her mind as the wild whers chimed in before coming into view. Taresk was known to her, they had once been in the same pride. Now the brown and His were prideseconds. Hrm, Ridesk was a wher who could appreciate such things even if she had no drive to rise through the ranks herself. Maybe someday but not now, not when she still had so much to learn about… well everything. Especially whatever this was that was happening. The brown’s words caused the pale female to pause in her trot through the underbrush. Tilting her head she regarded him, Why Ridesk be violent? Silly to hurt other whers, need whers for patrols and protection. She seemed genuinely confused at the idea that she - or any female for that matter - might demand whers to be violent towards one another; as if that would do anything to sate the need she felt creeping up along her back and warming her entire form. Then again it seemed likely after she considered it longer that he might be talking about the wild whers.

Each of them, except the black, had scars upon their hide to tell of all their previous fights and conquests. Glaring at the blue, black, and bronze she cast a critical eye upon them before whipping around as she heard rustling to her back. Another blue, this one also familiar to her, emerged looking quite pleased with himself. Dabysk here to help! Help Ridesk with all needs, Ridesk see Dabysk is good at that. He seemed to beam at the cyan as he admired her form from a respectable distance, not wishing to draw her ire by getting too close. Looking over the blue she snorted before stretching her impressive wings outward, Say have what Ridesk need but what is that? How all know but Ridesk no know?

It burned within her veins as she looked from one male to the next, tucking her wings back before breaking into a trot once more. Freshly grown plant life was squished by each foot fall, some would be broken beyond repair while others would spring back to life once the whers had passed. Spongy moss and mud clung to her claws as they sank into the ground, each heavy push propelling her further ahead of her suitors. Somehow it felt right to run even though she wasn’t entirely certain why that was.

As she puzzled through the why Rider was caught up in a much more dire predicament. Ridesk had plenty of suitors chasing her while he was very much alone. Of the cyan’s suitors only two had counterparts residing within the walls of the Weyr; one was a man who he had done many a patrol with and who he respected, the other a woman who he’d done just as many patrols with when he was still in Epsilon. Would it be awkward to intrude on Qivi to see if she was free at this candlemark? His lust addled mind was to the point of not caring much as he roamed the corridors trying to find the best route to the rider’s weyr, managing to get himself all sorts of lost. Shards and shells Ridesk, why did you choose now? Slumping against one of the rough stone walls he let out a heavy sigh, body aching and cheeks flushed as he struggled to gather himself.

Taresk only made a brief glance towards the other males that had joined the run after him in the form of two more wild whers in the form of a scar riddled Bronze and a Black that wasn’t really known to be in the area. Taresk has heard of others not as unwilling to cause violence. Taresk want to make sure that not the case at least for Ridesk’s intentions, said Taresk trying to clarify.

Though it was a little late, at least another bonded wher, compared to the other three wild and therefore most likely unpredictable whers, and wasn’t an unknown to Taresk by a long shot seeing as Dabysk was a member of Taresk’s Pride and that they had been on a few patrols together. A mate at least for the end of this run, not know what need during this run or after this, said Taresk taking a rather straightforward approach to Ridesk’s question.

Tarele wasn’t about to completely change how he dealt with runs in general though it didn’t look like there would be anymore bonded whers that would be joining the run and the least that he could do was to see what was going on in Rider’s Quarters. With a bit of searching he did find where the Priderunner was poking his head in somewhat feeling a little sheepish even with all of the emotions that came with runs saying, “Hello?”

What a peculiar Run, the little black wher thought to himself. More of a stroll really. This wasn’t his first—though one did not Run and tell, he was polite enough to know that—but it was the first in memory that had not immediately left him huffing for breath. There were disadvantages to being a little wher that did not like to rush. You were likely to get winded. Or stepped on by bigger, more brutish ones. He did not puff himself under her regard, only crept up as close as he thought inoffensive, his head swaying slowly atop its long neck. The sight of her flared wings drew an appreciative hiss of breath from Oolsk. In sad emulation his own wings, or what passed for them, fluttered. Nothing more than vestigial nubs, the gesture was too small to see in the gloom, even for photophobic eyes.

As Ridesk turned away and took up her easy trot he once more fell in, keeping off the right side and a little behind, his head craned to keep one eye on her and the other on the wher to his left. The Bronze especially was a concern to him. Wild, and clearly used to getting his way. A Blue might think twice before trying to literally squash his opponents—a King-sized wher had little need for such caution. But then perhaps he would underestimate his smaller opponents. As much as he loved Ridesk, for in that moment he did, with all his oily little heart—as much as he wanted to sign himself over to her fully, he would always prize his own skin above all else.

Need more than mate, the black crooned, eyes whirling purple with desire, need other wher for stoke fire in blood! Then for put fire out. Before bonded wher burn all up from inside. He pulled a little closer, squirming through the underbrush a little more carelessly now, a few leaves trembling in his wake. Sloppy! Careless! But it was a risk he would take for Ridesk. Choose Oolsk! Oolsk full of fire too, fire for Ridesk. Was she a wher who cared for poetry? He did not know, but if nothing else maybe it would make him stand out from the pack.

The others answered. The others knew. They all did. That Ridesk was burning. Because she made them burn too. Alisk worked his jaw, still fighting the temptation to swallow the prey he caught. Nearby was a powerful King who looked all too capable of ripping apart any who got in his way. Alisk knew Scarsk from a previous Run and barely avoided getting stuck in the brawl he invoked. Unlike many blue's, he did have a sense of self preservation. Getting mauled by a possessive bronze was not how one survives to Chase another day.

'Ridesk need. Want mate. Make eggs. She not know?' the blue kept running, keeping his distance from the more aggressive in the pack. 'Mate make burn go away. Make need stop. We answer. You call.' The cyan was a sight to see. Her wings a fascinating marvel. Almost like the giant flapwings that took to the sky above and breathed fire from their maws. She lived in the place with them. All the human whers did. Was it living in that strange place that granted some of them with such physique?

Were Scarsk bonded to a human, with human sensibilities linked to his mind, he might have laughed at Ridesk's confusion regarding males becoming violent during a Run... indeed, physical competition was how a male proved he was virile, and therefore the best mate. The cyan's time among the two-legs had clearly not prepared her for proper wher behavior... if any other males got between her and him, Scarsk would soon show her exactly how males won Runs. His one good eye scanned his competition... only a brown came anywhere near his bulk, and it was a man-cave wher, unscarred and likely inexperienced in combat... an easy kill, if it came down to it. The bronze's other eye was as shattered and dull as last time some of these whers had seen him, his wide, bulky shoulders still sporting one tiny, shredded wing and one stump of a wing. His short-muzzled head, crowned with thick horns directly in front of his headknobs, swiveled on the end of his thick, forward-jutting neck, his forelegs much thicker than his hind legs. The end of his tail still sported a cluster of wickedly-sharp spines jutting out every which way, the few he had lost to a bite from another wher his last run having grown back.

"This my forest, this my Run. Strongest, best eggs. Any who get in way be taught," the King sent to all around him, swinging his tail meaningfully as his massive front claws tore up the ground in demonstration of their capabilities. A shake of his head sent burdenbeast blood spraying from the neck of the severed head he still held in his huge teeth, clearly meant to show how strong his bite was to anyone looking at him. As the mindtalk ended and the posturing concluded, Ridesk began the Run in earnest... latecomers would likely have trouble vying for position from this point forward. Digging his paws into the loamy earth, Scarsk began to Chase, leaving a trail of snapped saplings, crushed branches, and massive claw tracks in his wake as he barreled after the cyan, crushing anything in his path.

Pure denial fueled her thoughts now - she’d long since come to the conclusion that the males had but she was refusing to accept it. While plenty of other females felt the need to Run she had gone turns without feeling that need, in her mind that meant she was exempt from such trivial things. Yet as she made her way through the foliage she felt it wasn’t quite as trivial as she’d once believed. Her queries were answered by each of the males and so she focused her thoughts instead on their words.

Taresk if not the most verbose of whers was at least practical in his response, he didn’t presume to know her desires beyond tonight. Ridesk appreciated that from the brown. Then there was Oolsk but the black spoke of fire and being burned from the inside out. Fire? What did that have to do with anything? Glancing back at the males she didn’t see any of them on fire and even though she could feel the burn in her muscles and loins she failed to make the connection. Pity, he would have been interesting if he’d been more practical. Alisk and Scarsk both seemed convinced she would lay eggs - would she? She’d studied other whers well enough to know that some did not clutch after Runs; particularly those of her hue seemed to not offer clutches very often and when they did they held duds. Certainly she wasn’t here because she wished to clutch, that would take up so much of her time! Not, of course, that she would have much of a choice in the matter once a mate had been chosen. Still their focus on saddling her with a clutch soured them in her mind - that and the bronze’s posturing and apparent desire for violence.

With a soft snort she suddenly broke into a full sprint, pulling ahead of the males enough that she was able to bank left into the foliage. Stopping she waited until they drew nearer and then burst from the underbrush in order to sidle up against Taresk in a display of affection completely out of character for her. Others go now. Ridesk make choice, Taresk practical and no bother Ridesk when not here. That best quality in male.

Having stumbled her way through the lower caverns in order to find Rider’s wherhole the bluehandler found herself disappointed. The cyanhandler was nowhere to be found, though that didn’t stop her from letting herself in and getting comfortable on his bed. Toying with her hair she looked up when she heard a voice, ”Hello! Our host isn’t here… but I am.” Smiling brightly with the faintest of rosey hue to her cheeks her eyes widened slightly when she saw it was Tarele. ”Looks like Dabysk and Taresk have the same taste in females.” Scooting over she made room for him if he was amicable, though she felt plenty of emotions radiating through her bond she was old enough and composed enough to keep from throwing herself at the man. After all, that might have proved to be too embarassing, the next time she found herself on patrol with him.

Rider wound through the corridors until he found a door he thought was a certain blackrider’s. Knocking rapidly he was too impatient to wait as he felt Ridesk make her choice; pushing the door open he let himself in, ”Qivi?” Hope, need, and trepidation were wrapped up in the woman’s name - how horrid would it be if she turned him down, or worse if he had the wrong weyr?

Having lost another Run in HIS forest, by yet another two-legs-loving wher who did not understand how things worked, Scarsk dropped the severed head he still carried onto the ground and roared in rage, then snatched the head back up and crushed the skull in his powerful jaws like an egg, showing his extreme displeasure to all around him as pulped brains dripped along with a fresh sluice of blood from the now-ruined burdenbeast cranium. "You no desire good eggs, best male? Get out Scarsk forest! Any I find, I kill!" His one good eye glared around, bright swirling red with anger, ready to assault any wher who did not retreat from his sight and take out his frustrations upon them.

If everyone fled, Scarsk would follow the blood trail back to his kill to finish his meal, dissipating his Runlust with food instead of mating. The forests around Dalibor would likely be more dangerous than usual the next few days as the prideful wild King recovered from his social black eye.

The Brown didn’t presume to know what exactly what was going on in Ridesk’s head, both under normal circumstances and in the middle of run, especially just how she was dealing with the emotions involved in any given run. Taresk wasn’t sure what the wild Black was getting at with all of the fire imagery, but as long as he didn’t actually start a fire during or after this it didn’t matter all that much to Taresk and at least the wild Blue and Bronze were blunt about it. The chance that any eggs would come from this wasn’t a guarantee as it would be with a Queen, there were plenty of female Fighter whers that died of old age that only produced a handful of viable eggs in their lifetime.

Ridesk caught Taresk by surprise when she broke out into a full sprint, though he was faster than the Bronze he couldn’t keep pace with her though just as quickly she had disappeared among the undergrowth that she appeared again right beside Taresk declaring him the winner of the run.

Tarele was more than a little surprised with the appearance of Dabyrie within Rider’s quarters instead of the Cyanhandler. “Well, this is awkward, and it seems like once again our whers have the same interest,” said Tarele.